


beneath the milky twilight

by nefertiti



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: A lot of kissing, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings, Piningjolras, there's some cissexism halfway through
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 06:42:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1541354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nefertiti/pseuds/nefertiti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All in all it’s not a bad plan. Enjolras wants to learn how to kiss and Grantaire is very kissable. Well no. That’s not exactly it. Enjolras wants to learn to kiss for Grantaire so that when he gets the courage to ask Grantaire out on a date he won’t be a bad kisser for when he has to kiss him and he wants Grantaire to be the one to teach him. It’s a good plan. It makes perfect sense that Grantaire should be the one to teach him how to kiss. After all, all of this is for his benefit.</p><p>Well yeah okay, so maybe some of it is for Enjolras’ benefit too but that’s beside the point. The point is that Enjolras needs to learn how to kiss and Grantaire is going to be the person to teach him how to do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	beneath the milky twilight

**Author's Note:**

> the idea for this fic is based on [this](http://prouvaireiant.tumblr.com/post/79536508146/high-school-au-enjolras-deciding-he-needs-to-know) tumblr post
> 
> there's no sex in it but everyone's in the 16/17 age group so it's tagged underage, just in case. 
> 
> i made a few gender changes. joly, marius and montparnasse are now cis ladies, feuilly is agender, bahorel is a trans man, and bossuet is still figuring their gender, they just know they don't fit in the binary. there's some cissexism, misgendering and slurs used by an outside party as a result of it halfway through.

Enjolras sees Grantaire standing by his locker laughing with Joly and he wants to walk up to him right then and ask him, but asking him what he wants to ask him in front of someone else just screams ‘terrible fucking idea’ and this idea is questionable enough. As a habit he doesn’t make a practice of indulging in more than _one_ questionable idea for a day. It’s a suggestion Combeferre made when they were nine and Enjolras really took it to heart.

Courfeyrac is the one who first suggests it to him and generally when Courfeyrac suggests something Enjolras’ first inclination is to do the exact opposite. Don’t get him wrong or anything, Courfeyrac is great. Courfeyrac is one of his best friends. He’s intelligent, passionate, warm, caring and probably the only person who can successfully coerce Enjolras out of a bad mood without Enjolras even noticing he’s being pandered to. So Courfeyrac is great, but Courfeyrac is also a fucking idiot. Enjolras doesn’t see the point in sugar coating it. Courfeyrac doesn’t just have bad ideas, he _is_ a bad idea. Courfeyrac is the person your parents warn you about when they condescendingly ask _‘if one of your friends jumps off a bridge would you do it too?’_ because Courfeyrac would most definitely convince you to jump off a bridge with him and he’d be fine, splashing about in the water while you break your leg doing a pitiful attempt at a cannonball into the river and have to spend your entire summer in bed while your admittedly lazy friends are out being active _just_ to spite you and no Enjolras still hasn’t forgiven him for that okay, but that’s not the point.

The point is that Courfeyrac generally has bad ideas but this one isn’t his worst.

Courfeyrac is one of the two people who knows how ridiculously infatuated Enjolras is with Grantaire and he really isn’t sure how it happened. Not Courfeyrac knowing about it. He knows because Enjolras flat out admitted it to him and Combeferre one afternoon while they were studying and he was slightly (more than slightly) distracted thinking about Grantaire’s hands that were covered in paint when he came to lunch that day. What Enjolras isn’t sure about is how he started developing feelings for Grantaire. How their biting arguments turned into whatever this is.  How one day they’re just friends who argue in class more than any teacher has the patience for and the next day Enjolras is wondering how best he can drag Grantaire into a janitor’s closet and kiss him until they both forget that air is a thing that exists and is necessary, and it’s kind of confusing.

Enjolras...doesn’t do crushes. It’s just not something that he does. He used to think he was ace before this or that he was just that one lucky teenager who got to skip all of the hormone driven angst generally associated with high school relationships but apparently Bossuet’s bad luck is rubbing off on him because he isn’t.

And Grantaire is his _friend_. Well almost. They’re kind of friends. Or at least all of their friends are friends and that’s almost the same thing in a way. Does Grantaire even consider him a friend? Yes. He has to. Of course they’re friends. They annoy each other and they argue and Enjolras has been known on occasion to criticize some of his lifestyle choices, but they’re still _friends_. They’ve known each other since they were six. They were in boy scouts together. They went through their awkward phases at the same time. Grantaire went to every meeting at the Musain before their parents insisted that they have the club at school or not at all and they started a GSA and he helped design the website for it when Enjolras asked. Grantaire came over to his house more than once and spent hours talking with him while he was bored and holed up in his room because of his leg three years ago. Enjolras still has the drawings Grantaire made for him to cheer him up. Grantaire wouldn’t do that if he didn’t think of him as a friend.

So he has to think of the pros and cons of asking a friend out. A lot of their friends are dating and they’re doing fine. Maria and Cosette are still skirting around each other but Combeferre and Courfeyrac are going strong and Joly and Bossuet literally finish each other’s sentences, but he and Grantaire are not Combeferre and Courfeyrac and they’re definitely not Joly and Bossuet who’ve never had an argument, even once.

Truthfully it doesn’t take a lot of nerve for Enjolras to consider asking Grantaire out. None at all, because he’s just _considering_ it.

In the consideration stage he had no idea how to do it though. Ever sensible Combeferre told him to just ask Grantaire if he wants to go to that art museum opening in a month with him since they all know that Grantaire likes art. It was a good idea and the more Enjolras thought about it, the more nervous he grew.

The thing is, Grantaire is a lot more experienced than Enjolras is, which isn’t actually saying much because the only experience Enjolras has is with the crook of his elbow. Grantaire on the other hand has played Seven Minutes in Heaven and Spin the Bottle and the likes during his prepubescent years with everyone else while Enjolras sat those games out. He dated Jehan freshman year and remained extremely close friends with him. He and Montparnasse are open about the fact that they’ve hooked up more than once and Montparnasse might just be one of the prettiest girls Enjolras has ever met, and he knows Cosette. He and Floreal have an on and off thing, which is currently on its off stage thankfully. Enjolras has seen him making out on couches or leading someone upstairs at awful house parties that Courfeyrac and Bahorel keep forcing him to have where Enjolras stands against the wall and sips club soda.

Enjolras has done none of that. The closest thing Enjolras has ever had to a relationship was in preschool when he and Combeferre had a ring pop wedding that was quickly dissolved when Courfeyrac insisted that they had to kiss to actually _stay_ married which coincidentally enough leads to the story of his first divorce.

Enjolras isn’t self conscious about it. Of course he isn’t. People make progress with these things at different stages. He’s just slightly nervous. Okay maybe more than slightly.

Let’s say Grantaire _does_ say yes. He agrees to go out with Enjolras and they go to the gallery opening and they have a great time and Enjolras walks him home and they kiss on Grantaire’s doorstep like all the movies say they’re supposed to. What is Enjolras supposed to do? He knows French kissing involves slipping in some tongue at a certain point but getting slobbered on by someone doesn’t sound appealing to him at all. So maybe a chaste kiss then. A peck on the lips. But that’s how he kisses Combeferre and Courfeyrac and his parents. A tiny peck on the lips. What if Grantaire thinks it was just a friend outing? What would Enjolras do? So maybe not a chaste kiss. A firm press of the lips?

It’s exhausting just to think about it.

And in any case what if it doesn’t even come to that. What if they realise they can’t spend time together without arguing and the date fails before he even has a chance to kiss him? These are all reasonable concerns.

Combeferre shakes his head at him when Enjolras explains all of this but Combeferre doesn’t understand. Combeferre has had romantic partners before. And now he and Courfeyrac with their frustrating public displays of affection at every turn (seriously they probably don’t even understand what keeping your hands to yourself means) proves that he knows what he’s doing. Enjolras isn’t that lucky.

It was then that Courfeyrac told him that he should get Grantaire to teach him how to kiss. He said he was just kidding later (“ _Jesus Christ Enjolras, of course it was a joke”_ ) but all in all it’s not a very bad plan, questionable but not _bad_. Enjolras wants to learn how to kiss and Grantaire is very kissable. Well no. That’s not exactly it. Enjolras wants to learn to kiss for Grantaire so that when he gets the courage to ask Grantaire out on a date he won’t be a bad kisser for when he has to kiss him and he wants Grantaire to be the one to teach him. It’s a good plan. It makes perfect sense that Grantaire should be the one to teach him how to kiss. After all, all of this _is_ for his benefit.

Well yeah okay, so maybe some of it is for Enjolras’ benefit too but that’s beside the point. The point is that Enjolras needs to learn how to kiss and Grantaire is going to be the person to teach him how to do it. The plan is foolproof.

-

Okay so maybe the plan isn’t 100% foolproof, but the only problem that Enjolras is finding so far is that he never seems to be able to get Grantaire alone to actually go over it with him. He’s always either with Joly or Bossuet or Joly and Bossuet or Jehan or Bahorel or Eponine or Feuilly or Cosette or Maria or Combeferre and Courfeyrac.

Finding Grantaire on his own is only possible when Grantaire skips fourth period like he does every day and Enjolras doesn’t skip classes if only because he’d get detention and the idea of spending an extra hour at school listening to Javert drone on and on about boundaries and respecting the school rules is like physical torture. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

Grantaire always used to boast about hanging out under the bleachers with upperclassmen when they first came to the school, but most of those people graduated last year to Enjolras’ pleasure. They weren’t very good influences on Grantaire.

For a few months last year he spent most of his time with them, Montparnasse, Babet, Brujon and Claquesous, skipping school, going to parties at the university, taking dubious drugs and passing out drunk. Grantaire always looked so sickly during that period and not at all as happy as he proclaimed to be. It made Enjolras’ heart twinge at the time. Because Grantaire wasn’t spending as much time with their rag tag bunch of misfit friends. Because Grantaire always looked so unhappy, even when he was smiling and laughing. Because Grantaire barely looked at him when he passed him in the halls.

Grantaire gravitated back to them eventually just like Combeferre said he would and they embraced him as their own again. But remembering those days still makes Enjolras feel off kilter sometimes.

Fourth period maths, a class he technically shares with Grantaire, has a substitute today which means that he can just about get away with not showing up and still accounting as present when Fauchelevent comes back tomorrow.

True to his word Grantaire is sitting under the bleachers, with a cigarette held loosely between his fingers. Enjolras has dreams about those fingers.

Truthfully, Enjolras thinks that the entire _skipping class to smoke under the bleachers like a degenerate_ thing to be completely juvenile but this is who he has chosen to bestow his affections unto and there’s no turning back.

Even if Enjolras is trying to be sneaky (and he absolutely isn’t, he _isn’t_ ) the crunch of gravel announces his presence.

Grantaire’s head snaps towards him and there’s that flash of blue in his eyes makes Enjolras’ insides jolt. He wants to say something. He came here to say something and he’s good with words. At least he used to be because right now he’s just looking at Grantaire with wide eyes and thanking whatever gods that may exist that he isn’t gaping like a fish.

He’s been told by most that Grantaire isn’t exactly beautiful, or at least not the way that Enjolras thinks he is. If he takes a step back, Enjolras might even understand what they mean. Grantaire’s facial features are a strange combination, his face is heart shaped but his forehead juts out slightly, his nose is still twisted slightly from that time that he broke it falling out of the tree in Bahorel’s backyard when they were eight, his eyes are almond shaped and a piercing shade of blue, like the ocean and the sky put together, but they’re placed too far apart, he has pouty lips that are pink and often curved in a smirk, and put together on his face his features appear mismatched and strange. As if they don’t quite fit. It’s jarring. But his strangeness is what attracts Enjolras to him the most. And those eyes.

“What are you doing here sun god?” Grantaire asks, jolting him out of his thoughts.

“I want to kiss you,” Enjolras blurts out and Grantaire’s eyes bulge and that’s really not how he planned on saying it. This is why he writes the speeches and Courfeyrac reads them. Damn Grantaire and his stupid, blue eyes.

“I mean no,” Enjolras tries to correct hastily. “I don’t want to kiss _you_. Of course I don’t. I just want to _kiss_ you. Wait that’s not- can I start over?”

“I’m not really sure if I want you to...” Grantaire says slowly. A flurry of emotions that Enjolras couldn’t figure out had flown past Grantaire’s face when Enjolras was talking but now his expression is as indecipherable as usual.

“Right. Yeah. I’m sorry. I’ll just-” Enjolras turns to walk away.

“Enjolras wait. Don’t do that. Just stop.” Grantaire grabs him by the shoulder and Enjolras really didn’t notice when Grantaire got up because he’s focused on hoping that his face doesn’t look like a tomato when he slinks into Math Class ten minutes late.

Enjolras turns around, shrugging out of his hold in the process. Grantaire looks down at his hand and clenches it, drawing it back to his side.

“What?” Enjolras spits out, far more coldly than he means to.

Grantaire looks about just as lost as he feels which makes him feel better, even if it’s just slightly.

Grantaire shrugs and asks tentatively. “Just sit with me?”

Enjolras nods and lets Grantaire lead them back to his spot under the stands. You could see the centre of the field from here, but it’s empty and doesn’t hold his interest for long.

They’re silent for a while as Enjolras mulls over what he wants to say in his head. Maybe this is why Combeferre and Courfeyrac warned him to be careful about this. He’s bad at doing things without a plan and he definitely doesn’t have a detailed conversation planned for this. It’s out of the ordinary. He has a plan for just about everything. He even has a post zombie apocalypse plan that absolutely no one but him knows about, although he’s sure Jehan would be delighted if he ever found out. He’s good with plans. Without them however, he’s like this. Uncharacteristically out of sorts. It’s not a pleasant feeling.

Grantaire doesn’t push him though and he’s grateful for that.

“You shouldn’t skip so many classes you know.” Enjolras says, his typical rebuke is hollow as he sorts through his thoughts.

“I’m half Puerto Rican.” Grantaire grins indolently. “You know I have a secure position cleaning toilets when we graduate.”

Enjolras knows that that’s a shitty thing for Grantaire to say but he doesn’t know how to combat it without sounding like a _privileged white boy_ like Eponine keeps calling him so he doesn’t bother responding to it and they fall into another lapse of silence.

“I like someone,” he admits finally.

“Oh.” Grantaire replies and Enjolras can barely gauge his reaction from his profile which is troubling. Combeferre always says that someone’s expression can tell you which way a conversation should go when you’re winging it and boy is Enjolras winging it right now. He can’t just come out and say, “Hey I like you and I want to kiss you and date you and probably have sex with you at some point in the distant future but mostly I just want to be around you always.” That’s pure nonsense. He’ll sound insane. And even more so, he doesn’t even know if Grantaire would even be amenable. That’s another reason why this idea appeals to him. He wants to get closer to Grantaire. Let him see Enjolras as something other than that loud friend of his who constantly causes disturbances in the cafeteria. He needs to ease Grantaire into the idea of liking him.

“Who?” Grantaire inhales his cigarette and is kind enough not to blow the smoke anywhere near Enjolras’ direction.

“Um,” Enjolras says smartly. He _really_ should have planned this. “No one you know.”

Grantaire pauses before asking, and his voice sounds slightly stiffer than usual for some reason “Why did you say anything about kissing me then?”

“I want you to teach me how to kiss.” Enjolras says before he loses the nerve completely. “I want to ask this...person out and when I do I don’t want to look foolish. I’ve never kissed anyone before and I don’t want to seem-”

“If this person even cares about something as stupid as that then they don’t deserve you. Not even a little bit.” Grantaire turns to face him, and his expression is completely earnest as he says this. “You’re amazing Enjolras and whoever you end up with should be thoughtful enough to not treat your lack of experience as a bad thing.”

Enjolras’ breath catches in his throat. It’s nice to know that Grantaire cares enough about him to be offended on his behalf but- “I still want to be prepared though.”

“And you want _me_ to help prepare you?”

Grantaire digs the butt of the cigarette into the ground with more force than Enjolras thinks truly necessary and Enjolras nods, his eyes focused on the ground where Grantaire has causally tossed his discarded cigarette.

“For the person you want to be with.”

Enjolras nods.

“By teaching you how to kiss.”

Another nod.

Grantaire takes a moment before saying anything and some part of Enjolras knows that he’s just doing it to keep him in suspense. He’s a contrary bastard that way. _Why_ does Enjolras have to like him so much?

“A most important matter, prostrating oneself before a god.” Grantaire muses. “Dare I?”

“I’m not a god.” Enjolras sighs. It’s constant thing that Grantaire does. Mocking him for being infallible in an ironic way that’s completely him. He stands up and starts pacing. It’s not even a nervous habit. It’s just something he does because staying still for too long makes him fidgety.

“Sure,” Grantaire complies, looking up at him with the quirk of his lips.

“You say that and tomorrow you’ll be calling me Apollo again.” Enjolras says, mouth pinched.

“No I was saying yes.” Grantaire says, completely ignoring Enjolras.

“Yes to what?” Enjolras asks before he thinks about it. Then- “You’re- yes then?”

“Yes.” Grantaire shrugs, leaning back against the steel panel behind him. He takes his pack out from his pocket and there’s another lit cigarette between his fingers in no time. “Did you want to start now?”

“Yes!” Enjolras cries out. “I mean no.”

“Which is it?” Grantaire asks.

“What?” And why does it have to be today that Enjolras chooses to be completely idiotic.

“Consent is mandatory Apollo.” Grantaire smirks. “So is it yes or no?”

Enjolras pauses to think about it. “...No.”

“No?” Grantaire asks.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“No. Yes.”

“I’m confused. Is it no yes or yes no.” Grantaire asks slowly.

“Yes no.” Enjolras says shaking his head clear. He needs time to prepare for this and he had hummus at lunch and it’s really not a good idea to kiss someone with hummus on your breath. He’s inexperienced but he knows enough to at least know that. “I’ll text you after school? We need to work out a schedule.”

“A schedule.” Grantaire looks at him strangely. “Of course. That actually makes sense for you.”

“It’s a compliment don’t worry.” Grantaire affirms when Enjolras looks at him curiously.

They pause there awkwardly looking at each other until Grantaire looks away. He places his cigarette between his lips and pulls. “The bell is going to ring in five minutes and me and the rest of the Chemistry Club have free period so we’re meeting up. You should hurry. _I_ can afford to be late.”

“Yeah okay,” Enjolras nods. He dusts off the back of his jeans and he takes one more look at Grantaire, who’s looking at the nothing beyond the bleachers, before heading to History class.

Lamarque is always a lot more lenient to latecomers than most other teachers.

-

Grantaire comes over after school the next day as per Enjolras’ request.

The schedule he prepared is a simple one. Tuesdays and Thursdays after school and Saturday evenings Grantaire will come over to Enjolras’ house, the lessons will commence in his bedroom and Grantaire will slowly fall in love with him not so much because of his not that great kissing skills but because of his spectacular personality.

(He’s not actually very certain that he has the best personality but his friends seem to like him and his mother assures him that he’s a great person to be around so, there’s that.)

Grantaire doesn’t know about the last part of the plan but seemed okay with the first half of it when Enjolras suggested it so he assumes that the guy doesn’t have any prior arrangements on those days.

Enjolras’ mum greets Grantaire with a smile when he arrives before leaving him and Enjolras to stand in the foyer next to each other awkwardly. Enjolras’ parents love all of his friends, regardless of the fact that some of them (like Eponine and Grantaire) can be considered bad company by some people. Enjolras thinks it’s because they feel guilty about almost never being home and they’re glad that Enjolras isn’t alone all the time. Whatever the reason, it works out well for him now because they almost never come up to his room when he has friends over, not wishing to bother him.

Enjolras leads Grantaire upstairs. He thinks if this were the first time Grantaire was here, he’d feel ashamed. He always feels both mortified and guilty the first time anyone he knows comes over here. He practically lives in a mansion and all the excessive displays of wealth grates on him. He and his parents have argued about it more than once. He think their money could be put to better use than displaying expensive vases and fucking eighteen thousand dollar crystal cats on tables or hanging priceless paintings that no one in the house understands on the wall just for the sake of appearing cultured, but he loses that fight every time.

Grantaire is standing in front of one of the paintings right now. Enjolras’ room is just one door away but Grantaire seems fascinated by the painting of a young girl with blonde hair who looks like she’s lost in a field. It’s Grantaire’s favourite. Enjolras knows because every time he’s over this happens. He pauses in front of it and contemplates it for a bit. Maybe there’s some sort of symbolism going on in the painting, but Enjolras doesn’t see the point in it at all. He’s not good at understanding art like Grantaire is.

“This one has always been my favourite.” Grantaire says softly, looking away finally and following Enjolras to his room.

“I know.” Enjolras replies without thinking as he ushers Grantaire in his room.

Grantaire looks at him carefully as he shuts the door and he feels heat beginning to creep onto his face.

His room is sizable. He never really notices it so much until he’s over at his friends’ houses, most of which look cramped by comparison. His bed is queen sized. He has a couch and a desk and a bookshelf where he keeps his favourite books. He has a flat screen telly in the room but he rarely ever uses it. He prefers watching things on his laptop in any case.

“So where do you want to start?” Enjolras asks firmly, trying to take back some control of the situation despite his burning cheeks.

Grantaire shrugs and sits on the edge of Enjolras’ bed. “We can start with why you have a book on textile patterns next to your bed when we both know you can’t sew for shit.”

Enjolras looks at his bed stand where Grantaire’s eyes are directed and rolls his eyes. He wishes he would stop forgetting that. 

“Feuilly forgot it when xe was here three days ago.” Enjolras shrugs out of his jacket, and rests it over the chair by his desk. “I keep forgetting to put it in my bag to give back to xem every morning.”

Enjolras pretends not to notice how Grantaire keeps his own jacket not only on, but completely buttoned up.

“So...” Grantaire says tapping his fingers against his thighs. “Is xe the person you like?”

“I said you don’t know them.” Enjolras snaps and regrets it almost immediately when Grantaire’s hands still and a flash of hurt crosses his face.

“What I mean to say is, this is all new for me and I’m not that comfortable talking about it.”

Grantaire nods thoughtfully. He pats the space next to where he’s sitting and Enjolras takes the hint and moves to sit next to him.

With Grantaire only inches away from him, it’s both more and less awkward.

“Should we-” he trails off as Grantaire shifts closer to him and rests a hand on his knee.

Grantaire cups the back of his neck and Enjolras leans in quickly. Grantaire chuckles and his fingertips stroke the back of his head slightly.  “This won’t be as fun if you don’t relax.”

Enjolras tries to takes that advice but it’s proving somewhat difficult with Grantaire’s hand on his neck and his breath on his lips. Gradually though, he slows his breathing and lets Grantaire lean in this time.

Grantaire presses his lips to Enjolras’, a quick brush that leaves him wanting more, before pulling away and looking at him carefully. He seems to like whatever he finds on Enjolras’ face because he kisses him again and this time his lips linger, a fleeting caress, before he pulls away.

Grantaire’s hand moves to his face and to the curve of his cheekbone, but he doesn’t kiss him again. He just says,

“Your hands are still by your side.”

And it’s true. The moment Grantaire’s lips touched his Enjolras’ brain short circuited. He has no idea what to do with his hands. He has no idea what to do with anything. When he says as much Grantaire lets go of his face, to Enjolras’ dismay, but he takes both of Enjolras’ hands in his and that feels just as good. Grantaire guides Enjolras’ hands up his sides, his fingertips dragging on Grantaire’s coarse, denim jacket, and he’s careful with him in a way that Enjolras wasn’t expecting.

Enjolras is the one to kiss him this time. He finds himself getting lost in Grantaire’s lips. He suddenly feels bad at how much time he’s spent scolding his friends for indulging in these sorts of activities and telling them that there’re better things they could be doing. What could be better than this?

Grantaire’s lips are chapped and dry, but his hands are curling in Enjolras’ hair and he’s sucking Enjolras’ bottom lip and teasing his mouth open slightly. He doesn’t slide his tongue inside, but each pull of the lip makes Enjolras shiver. He doesn’t know how long they spend doing this, slow kisses that make heat rise up and unfurl with a pleasant flourish in his stomach but when Grantaire pulls away, his eyes are blown.

“That’s um- that’s better. When you leave your hands at you side, you seem uninterested.” Grantaire says, his voice huskier than usual and Enjolras is suddenly jolted back into reality.

Grantaire is basically his tutor right now. He’s just being a good friend and helping Enjolras. He would probably do the same if Feuilly or Cosette or Maria asked. Enjolras knows they haven’t reached the place that he wants them to yet. This is all one sided for the moment. This is just going to take his patience. All of his patience, but patience nonetheless.

Enjolras pulls away, letting his hands fall to his side again, and clears his throat. “Um. That’s enough for today. Thank you.”

Grantaire’s shakes his head as if he was remembering something and he smiles. “Yeah okay. I- um. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Enjolras wants to take it back and tell him to stay for just a moment more but the sun looks like it’s about to set and if Grantaire stays here any later he’d be invited to dinner which would be an awkward situation for both of them and that’s not including that fact that he’s certain that both his parents know how he feels about Grantaire by now given how cranky they said he was when Grantaire was spending all his time with his juvenile delinquent friends and he hadn’t been over with the rest of their friends for several months and they’re not above embarrassing him just for the sake of it.

It’s a good idea for him to leave now anyway.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

-

“You look chipper.” Courfeyrac says suspiciously, peering at Enjolras. “Why do you look chipper? Are you on drugs?”

Enjolras, Combeferre, Feuilly and Jehan are in Courfeyrac’s bedroom after school with their books splayed open on the bed. Well Combeferre’s books are on the bed and so is he, with Courfeyrac’s head pooled in his lap. Everyone else is on the floor trying to study.

Courfeyrac has finally stopped complaining about how he got detention for threatening to light a textbook on fire to prove a point even thoughhe _didn’t actually do it (“I was just kidding! Kind of”)_ which sadly means that his attentions have turned to Enjolras.

“Is it a crime for me to be happy now?” Enjolras asks obsequiously.

“Yes,” Courfeyrac replies simply. “It’s weird. You’re weird. And I’m scared.”

“That rhymed.” Feuilly points out idly, xyr eyes still trained on xyr History textbook.

“That’s Jehan’s line.” Courfeyrac says with a chuckle.

“Why? Because I like poetry?” Jehan asks coolly, twirling a pen between his fingers. “If I ever use the word _weird_ in a poem you all have full permission to cut my hand off.”

“The extent of your elitism, is as always, inspirational to hipsters everywhere but let’s get back to the topic at hand. The dopey grin on Enjolras’ face,” says Courfeyrac cheerily which is all kinds of wrong because Enjolras isn’t actually grinning or even smiling.

When Combeferre points that out, Courfeyrac waves his hand dismissively. “That’s beside the point because someone, _Feuilly_ , has been preaching about public awareness on the conflict in the Middle East for half an hour instead of studying and Enjolras hasn’t swooned. Not even once. What gives?”

“I _don’t_ swoon.” Enjolras says at the same time Feuilly says:

“Keep making fun of Enjolras for actually wanting to keep abreast of international affairs all you like. More people should be like him. Too many people are unconcerned with these things just because they don’t directly affect them. ”

Feuilly’s words are soft and solemn but the glint in xyr eyes is as fierce as ever and Courfeyrac nods his acceptance of xyr words. That’s one of many things Enjolras admires about xem. Not just xyr innate ability to command respect, the fact that xe absolutely deserves it too. Enjolras just about barely remembers the first time they met in their first year at primary school and he just dismissed xem as the quiet Asian kid in dirty clothes who didn’t say much. A kicked over sandcastle (because castles are evil) and dried up tears later, Feuilly was playing in the same sandbox as him and his friends, bringing Bahorel along with him.

“Fine. As much as it pains me, no making fun of Enjolras for that.” Courfeyrac sighs significantly and then preens when Combeferre starts stroking his hair. “But seriously, why _are_ you distracted?”

And Enjolras can’t deny that he is very much distracted. He’s been reading the same sentence on the Napoleonic wars for the past hour and he hasn’t even mustered his usual abhorrence for the subject matter. He isn’t sure how much he wants to tell them though. Feuilly and Jehan definitely don’t know about his crush (he hates that word so much because it feels like so much more than that) so he won’t be mentioning it now and while Combeferre and Courfeyrac _do_ know, they also tried to dissuade him from it even though it was their own suggestion.

(Courfeyrac’s suggestion. Sometimes he forgets that Combeferre and Courfeyrac aren’t actually the same people, which is confusing sometimes because they’re wildly different people. He wonders if he and Grantaire would get like that if they started dating now. Probably not. They’d probably just argue all the time and break up within a month if they start dating now.

This is why Enjolras is trying to spend time around the teenager and build up a better friendship without any sort of pressure. Well no sort of pressure on Grantaire anyway.)

“My parents are going out of town for two weeks on Saturday.” Enjolras supplies and he isn’t actually lying. His parents go away on business for a week or two every few months.

Courfeyrac sits up eagerly.

“No.” Enjolras says before he even has a chance to open his mouth.

“I’m not saying we should have a _huge_ party or anything.” Courfeyrac says faux-innocently. “We’ll just have a couple of friends over.”

“The last time I let you convince me to have a _couple of_ _friends_ over we- no I had to spend the entire weekend cleaning my house top to bottom. My house isn’t small Courfeyrac. I still haven’t gotten that vomit stain out of my mum’s favourite rug.”

“First world problems.” Jehan says, shaking his head as if his house wasn’t about just as big as Enjolras’.

Enjolras and his friends aren’t exactly popular at their school, but they’re not exactly not popular either. They’re kind of the only group of friends in their school that comes from just about every race, gender, sexual orientation, religion, class and clique. Most of them have been friends since they were in preschool and the rest of them filtered in within the first two years of primary and they just never drifted apart, despite increasing separate interests.

So when any of them decides to throw a party, almost half of the student body population is there, from the rugby team, to the chess club, to the debate team, to the glee club to the chemistry and physics club, to the cheerleaders, to the abstinence club, to the most likely to end up prison inmates population of the student body. It’s a full house and since Enjolras and Jehan (who’s actually fond of these parties) have the biggest houses and parents who are often out of town on business, the parties tend to take place at their houses.

“Courfeyrac I love you, but we are not having a party at Enjolras’ if you’re not going to help with clean up duty.” Combeferre, Enjolras’ lord and saviour, chimes in.

“Et tu Brute.” Courfeyrac clasps a hand over his heart dramatically. And honestly with a combination of Courfeyrac, Grantaire, Bahorel and Joly in their cluster of misfit friends, they should start a theatre group. They probably won’t be any good but hey, they’d put on an entertaining show.

“We have two weeks Enjolras,” Courfeyrac says finally. “Don’t think I won’t keep trying to wear your down.”

-

“I hear you’re having a party” is how Joly greets him at lunch, sitting three places away from him. Her long, brown hair is in a side braid today. It looks pretty and Enjolras wonders if he could ask her if she could do his hair like that for him. His hair is almost always tied in a red ribbon since he likes it long and doesn’t have the patience for most other styles. It takes him a minute to register her words.

“I will kill you in your sleep,” he scowls across the table at Courfeyrac who’s smiling blithely at him. Bahorel snorts and luckily, grape juice doesn’t drip from his nose this time.

Cosette rolls her eyes from where she’s sitting opposite him, next to Maria. She tugs on the end of her khimar with the shake of her head that says, _‘Why am I friends with these people?’_

“You mustn’t give away your plans like that mate.” Bossuet says with a grin, dropping their tray on the table in front of them, sliding next to Joly and resting their arm on her shoulder. “I don’t want to be forced to testify against you in court.”

“Cuando está Enjolras teniendo una fiesta?” Maria asks and Courfeyrac giggles.

Maria has been trying to learn Spanish since she found out that her father died a year ago, eager to embrace her Cuban heritage although Enjolras thinks that while she _is_ truly excited about it, half of the reason she’s doing it is to piss her racist grandfather off. Grantaire, who speaks Spanish fluently, generally laughs at her attempts and pokes fun at her since he says she sounds like a human sounding Google Translate. Grantaire usually gently corrects her after his teasing, but Grantaire’s not here now and none of them actually speak the language well enough to correct her stilted speech.

“There’s not going to be a party.” Enjolras says firmly. “I refuse. I’m putting my foot down.”

“I’ll tell you where to put that foot.” Courfeyrac practically growls. “We’re _having_ that party.”

“Over my dead body.” Enjolras retorts.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Courfeyrac says calmly. “Sacrifices can be made if needed.”

“Ugh is Enjolras still moaning about the party?” asks a voice that sounds suspiciously like Eponine’s coming from behind him. Enjolras twists around and sure enough, it’s Eponine and Grantaire, neither of them with a tray which means that they’ve either eaten already or had half a pack of cigarettes each for lunch...again.

Eponine’s russet hair is tied in a messy ponytail and her skin is paler than usual which means that she did indeed smoke her lunch. Enjolras has no idea how those two manage to get the stench of cigarette smoke out of their clothes before class.

“I can’t moan at the nonexistent.” Enjolras replies primly, turning back to face his untouched sandwich.

Eponine goes around the table to sit with Cosette and Grantaire sits on Joly’s other side. He doesn’t look at Enjolras and Enjolras suddenly realises that they’ve never talked about whether or not anyone’s going to know about their relationship. Well they don’t have a relationship. He needs to remember that. They have an acquaintance. A mentorship if you would. But no one knows about it, unless Grantaire’s said anything.

 “Stop describing Maria’ sex life Enjolras.” Grantaire says with a droll air. “It’s cruel, even for you.”

Grantaire winces which means that Cosette probably just kicked him. Or most likely Eponine given the way she’s glaring at him.

“Where’re Combeferre and Jehan?” Bossuet asks curiously, they look around the lunchroom for the two but they’re nowhere to be found.

“The Physics Club are meeting for part of the lunch period today because they planning on starting a study group.” Enjolras informs them.

“A study group.” Grantaire says, nodding his head. “Well that explains why I wasn’t invited.”

“It explains why _you_ weren’t invited.” Joly says seemingly cross, but her smile betrays her. “Why wasn’t I?”

“Because pretty much half of the club can be found in our group of friends.” Combeferre says, making everyone jump. Jehan looks amused at his side. “It’s easy to pass along information this way.”

“And you _are_ invited to the study group Grantaire.” Jehan says indulgently. “Don’t be silly.”

They both sit at the two empty seats on his side. Combeferre pokes Enjolras in the ribs and looks at his lunch tray significantly. Enjolras rolls his eyes but he still takes a bite out of his sandwich.

“So are we talking about Enjolras’ party?” Jehan asks innocently.

Enjolras barely registers Combeferre’s hand on his back as he drops his head to the table with a loud thump.

-

Grantaire is in his bedroom lying horizontally on the couch with Enjolras on top of him, exchanging chaste kisses when Enjolras asks.

“Have you told anyone about this?”

“No.” Grantaire replies, looking up at him and brushing some of Enjolras’ long hair out of his face. “Have you?”

Enjolras shakes his head and Grantaire nods as if he already knew.

“Of course you didn’t.”

“What’s that supposed to-”

Grantaire pushes his head up and kisses Enjolras’ jaw. He kisses him up his jaw until he has his earlobe between his teeth and he toys with it lightly. He sucks on it and Enjolras shivers lightly as he traces his tongue over the curve of Enjolras’ ear. By this point Enjolras forgets what he was even going to ask. It probably wasn’t important anyway.

-

It’s Saturday and Enjolras is sitting in front the grand piano in the hall downstairs and playing idly. His parents made him take lessons when he was younger and he stuck with it. Despite popular opinion, he actually does know how to relax and he finds music to be relaxing.

His parents left a few hours ago and his house is too big to be empty. He can’t ask his friends to come over every day and he feels lonely sometimes. It’s good to relax.

There _is_ staff around of course. The cook only comes once a week when his parents are away, since Enjolras doesn’t really eat big meals unless forced and there’s no one around to force him. The housekeeper is there every day but she’s new and doesn’t speak a word of English and Enjolras’ Russian isn’t that good. He doesn’t really know the pool boys and the other yard workers that well and the driver has time off until his parents are back.

Enjolras finds all of the frivolous pomp in having this many people working in one household frankly unnecessary to be honest but it makes him feel safer while his parents are away for some reason.

He once tried to convince his parents to cut down on their staff but they didn’t listen and Feuilly got angry with him for trying to cost lower class people their hard earned wages because of his guilt when he was seething about it to his friends. Enjolras still thinks that his parents are wasteful but he was ashamed that he never thought about it from the perspective of their workers until Feuilly said it.

One of the gardeners smiles at him briefly as they pass by the window and Enjolras nods as he continues playing. When he’s in a mood like this he goes from one song to the next without even thinking.

Enjolras is so caught up in his music that he doesn’t even hear the door open. It’s only when a surprisingly strong baritone starts singing along to the accompaniment that Enjolras jerks away from the keys.

Grantaire is standing in his hall looking at him intriguingly. Enjolras clears his throat and gestures for Grantaire to come sit next to him. Grantaire complies and Enjolras takes a breath before he starts playing again.

This time he’s ready for Grantaire to start singing along and his heart doesn’t quite twinge when Grantaire starts with,

 _“You look beautiful as always. Never fail to take my breath away. He’s a lucky guy to have you. How’d I ever let you slip away?_ ”

Enjolras feels Grantaire’s eyes on him but he keeps his eyes focused on the piano as his fingers glide over the keys. He stifles a gasp when Grantaire’s voice begins to crescendo into a belt. He’s glad that his hands don’t shake. He’s always had steady hands. Luckily, or perhaps unfortunately, Grantaire’s voice grows gentle again and for some reason that seems worse.

 _“I love you still.”_ Grantaire sings softly. “ _I’ve never stopped. I don’t think that I will.”_

Enjolras continues playing until the song’s over even as he wishes that Grantaire was actually singing about him. He looks up at the last resounding note to find Grantaire looking at him, with a soft gaze and Enjolras begins to hope. He looks at Grantaire who’s looking back at him. He feels like every cliché in the books when he looks into Grantaire’s eyes. His eyes are beautiful. Enjolras’ eyes are blue too technically, but not like Grantaire’s. Grantaire’s are just very wholly Grantaire. Deep, looking like three different colours in a certain light. Enjolras tears his eyes away from him and sighs.

“You’re a very...curious person,” says Enjolras.

Grantaire’s face twists in confusion. “How so?”

“I didn’t know you could sing,” says Enjolras, his voice sounding hoarser than usual.

“We’re even then. I didn’t know you could play,” says Grantaire. He darts his tongue out to lick his lips and Enjolras is transfixed.

He wants to kiss him.

So he does.

-

Having conversations about gender with people outside of their friend group is always frustrating. It’s not like they all came out of the womb as special enlightened little butterflies that’ve never fucked up or said the wrong thing before but they take the time to learn and they’ve seen their friends and their struggles and experiences firsthand, so now being around people not as enlightened is a grating experience. Like right now, it’s Monday which means that their GSA (which is a Gay Straight Alliance in name only and a Gender Sexuality Minority Alliance in actuality) is meeting after school in the Physics Lab and for the first time in months they have a prospective new member. And Enjolras is only _just_ resisting from telling her to get the fuck out.

“What’s your gender then?” the girl asks Bossuet, who’s the only person who doesn’t look overtly irritated with this conversation.

She’s short, with red hair and bleached tips and she didn’t even give her name before she started criticizing their proposition to petition for a removal of the gender binarist labelled bathroom spaces.

“Who the fuck knows man?” Bossuet replies sagely.

“Well exactly. It’s not like we can advocate for unisex bathrooms if we can’t explain each of your genders.” The girl says, looking around the room for support. So far, she isn’t getting any. “We can’t ask for a bathroom that boys, girls, trannies, bigenders, agenders and then _what the hell evers_ can use. Like at least with Bahorel we know that she’s a he and with Feuilly we know that he’s a _something_.”

“I’m not a he.” Feuilly says through gritted teeth.

“And if you ever call me a she again, I’ll break your fucking nose.” Bahorel says with a cheery smile. His mother is a Hawaiian immigrant and his father is Samoan and he’s tall and imposing like both his parents. Enjolras doesn’t know why anyone ever even attempt to fuck with him.

“You know what I mean,” the girl waves his hands dismissively.

“I don’t think they do.” Combeferre says calmly. And on first impressions people tend to think Combeferre is threatening, with his dark skin, defined muscles he has from playing rugby and his permanent frown that matches Enjolras’ but he is the person who’ll cut you down with his words rather than with his fist. “Maybe you should explain.”

“I mean that Feuilly’s a... thing. He fits in somewhere, even if the somewhere is confusing. Your friend over there,” she says pointing at Bossuet, who raises a brow but still has a smile etched on their face. “Can’t even say what she is.”

“I see. Well. You’re lucky enough to know your own gender identity right? That must be a real delight for you. A cause for celebration? Isn’t it?” Combeferre asks seriously. The girl shrugs at him. “Yeah I thought not. It probably isn’t. It probably isn’t even something you’ve ever even thought about. Well for other people it’s different. If one day Bossuet finds a term that they think suits them, that is none of your concern unless they decide to make it so. If Bossuet spends the rest of their life unsure of where they fit with regards to their gender, that is also none of your concern unless they decide to make it so. What _is_ your concern, is making sure that them and people like them can be treated with the same respect you and I are treated with regardless of how secure they are with their identity. Right now you’re harassing them for not knowing. It’s called misgendering. It’s a form of assault and we do _not_ tolerate violence in this club.”

The girl flounders and if they were debating over anything else, maybe over the quality of the meatballs in the cafeteria for instance, Enjolras would feel bad for her. As it is, he’s mentally dancing on the grave of the girl’s pride.

“You can come back of course,” Combeferre continues. “This is a school club. But only after you apologise to the three people you’ve bullied.”

Realising that she has no friends here, the girl huffs and shakes her head before making the choice to walk away. She’s stopped by Cosette’s hand on her shoulder.

“Here,” she says, handing him a card she fished out of her purse during Combeferre’s speech. The girl peers down at the card and looks up at her with suspicion.

“Who the fuck is Miriam?” she asks with what she probably thinks is a sneer but what kind of comes across as embarrassed confusion.

“Myriel.” Cosette corrects gently, completely undaunted by her attitude. “He’s my imam. He’s good at ministering to lost souls if you ever think you need to talk to him.”

The thing with Cosette, is that she probably means it too. She isn’t just trying to be witty but very few people ever really see it that way. The girl just glares at her before storming out.

“Well I’m glad that’s over.” Bossuet says with a grin. For all appearances they look untroubled, it’s only because Enjolras is sitting next to them that he notices the way their hands shake under the table.

“We’re adjourned.” Enjolras says, speaking for the first time since the meeting started. “We’ll get back to the petition next week.”

No one complains as they pack up and ready themselves to leave. Bahorel and Feuilly leave surrounded by their friends for comfort in case they need it and Joly and Bossuet leave shortly after, hand in hand. Grantaire’s the only one who stays behind.

“Well that sucked didn’t it?” Grantaire says, his tone slightly conversational, tilting back on the legs of his chair. If Joly were here, she’d slap his arm until all four legs of the chair were on the floor. But Joly isn’t here and that isn’t what Enjolras is focusing on.

What just happened isn’t something to make light of.

“I’m glad to see you so causal about cissexism. It’s not like that sort of thinking affects people and causes murders, rapes, suicide, assault. It’s not like it affects my own friends personally. By all means. Be laid back about it.” Enjolras glares at him.

“They’re my friends too Apollo.” Grantaire replies coolly. “Or have you forgotten?”

“No.” Enjolras says, his tone equally cold. “But it seems like _you_ have.”

“Just because I don’t have all of your righteous anger doesn’t mean that I’m not angry,” Grantaire says, the emotions coming from his eyes matching the colour for once. Ice. “Bossuet is one of my best friends. Bahorel and Feuilly are two of my closest friends. I _am_ angry. But apart from finding that kid and beating the shit out of her, which would be a crap thing to do, there’s nothing I can actually do about it right now. So all I can say is yeah, it sucked.”

“There _are_ things you can do Grantaire.” Enjolras forces himself not to sound patronising as he’s been accused of when pontificating about these things. “Public awareness. Treating non binary people with respect. Encouraging others to do the same. Listening. Educating yourself. Educating others. There are things that can be done.”

“I don’t know how you can look at things like what happened today and not think this entire crusade is hopeless and give up.” Grantaire says. And Enjolras wants to say something biting, but Grantaire’s shoulders are slumped and he looks dejected in a raw sort of way that Enjolras has never seen on his face before.

“Giving up means that bigotry wins.” Enjolras replies seriously. “It means that violence, sexualised or otherwise, against people as a punishment for existing or better yet for not existing the way society tells them they should, will continue go unchecked. It means that verbal violence like what just happened today will continue to be overlooked and seen as harmless. It means that hate wins, that ignorance wins and I will never be able accept that.”

Grantaire doesn’t respond and for a while the only noise Enjolras hears is from him shuffling his papers together.

“I wish I could be like you,” Grantaire admits finally. “I wish everyone could be like you.”

And Enjolras is taken aback. With all Grantaire’s disparaging of their efforts, he never stopped to think that the artist might actually want them to succeed.

Enjolras shakes his head with a wry smile. “If everyone was like me then there’d be no people like you.”

Grantaire looks at him and his lips quirk upwards. He stands up and walks towards Enjolras. Enjolras doesn’t pay too much attention to it until Grantaire presses his lips to the side of his mouth.

“Never change Enjolras,” he says before walking out of the room and leaving Enjolras alone with his thoughts.

-

Grantaire introduces him to all the pleasures a tongue tracing the contours of your mouth can bring the day after and Enjolras feels himself getting more and more lost into the essence of him. Grantaire.

This plan was supposed to let him learn a necessary skill and give him an excuse to be nearer to Grantaire and perhaps let Grantaire get used to the idea of him as a romantic partner.

It wasn’t supposed to make _him_ fall even harder.

-

Enjolras’ lessons have been going well so far. The first week was perhaps slightly awkward for them, but the second week was perfect. After their conversation in the Physics Lab they reached a sort of unspoken agreement to not snap at each other needlessly and Enjolras couldn’t be happier. It’s exactly what he was hoping for. A chance to get closer to the dark haired teenager without fighting with him.

It’s not even just that he gets to kiss Grantaire anymore (not that that isn’t a considerable perk) it’s just getting to be around him.

Sometimes they do their homework together like Enjolras does with his other friends before they start making out. Sometimes they just talk. Apparently their conversations go better when they don’t actively argue about things they disagree on. Who knew?

One thing that happens though, is that they’re not able to keep it a secret from their friends for long. Enjolras has no idea why he thought that they could. It’s hard to hide things from their weird, nosy, clingy, co-dependent bunch of- well at this point, calling them friends is offensive. They’re family. And as a result they spend a lot (read: all) of their time together, so they were all bound to notice that both Enjolras and Grantaire suspiciously have plans three days of the week, at the same time and none of them knew what these plans were.

Bahorel (Enjolras knows it was Bahorel even if he refuses to admit it) convinced them to break into Enjolras house Saturday evening ( _“Break in is a strong term Enjolras_ , Courfeyrac told him later. _“We have keys. Jesus said thou shalt not be a thieving assfuck not thou shalt not enter a house legally”_ ) and they may have happened to walk in on Grantaire straddling Enjolras and pressing him into the couch as his tongue was stuck down Enjolras’ throat while Enjolras’ hands may or may not (it’s definitely may, who’s he kidding here) have been groping Grantaire’s ass.  

They were so lost in each other’s touch that they didn’t even notice the door to Enjolras’ bedroom fly open with a bang until Bahorel (fucking Bahorel) started dramatically screaming “My eyes!” and he and Grantaire jerked apart and had to awkwardly explain what was going on as ten pairs of eyes peered at them owlishly and hope to God that none of them noticed how achingly hard Enjolras was.

Needless to say, Enjolras has gotten several lectures about it since then.

When he asked Grantaire if their friends were ragging on him too, Grantaire blushed and said,

“Yes, but our friends talk too much and are entirely wrong about most things.”

-

The strange thing though, is that while everyone seems either disappointed (Combeferre, Cosette, Feuilly, Jehan), angry (Eponine, Bossuet and Joly) or just frustrated (Courfeyrac and Bahorel) with this method of...learning when they chew him out, no one really seems surprised. It’s almost as if they knew about Enjolras’ hopeless infatuation with Grantaire beforehand.

When he asked Jehan about it while they were standing in line at the cafe the day after, the poet just sighed and patted Enjolras’ cheek fondly.  

“Enjolras my love, I’m afraid you have all the delicacy of a forest fire.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes. “Since when are you as prone to exaggeration as Courfeyrac or Bahorel?”

“You burn just as brilliantly and terribly as well.” Jehan says, his eyes thoughtful as he completely ignores Enjolras’ words. “Interesting.”

Enjolras bites. “What is?”

“Fire and water shouldn’t work. They are after all, nature’s foils. But somehow, in this situation, it does.”

“I don’t suppose you’re going to explain that.” Enjolras asks, already knowing the answer.

“Of course not.” Jehan says, rolling his eyes at Enjolras naiveté.

“Right.” Enjolras replies as they reach up to the counter and the barista smiles at them and asks for their order.

-

Everything comes to a head during the third week.

On Tuesday, Enjolras doesn’t bother with homework or talking or anything like that when he gets Grantaire in his room. His mind is otherwise occupied.

Grantaire came to school today wearing skinny jeans and a form fitted black v-neck that revealed his collarbone and the arms were cut off at the biceps and Enjolras lost all sense of coherency. Why wasn’t Grantaire sent home for public indecency? This was as indecent as it got. His clothes clung to his skin and Enjolras is jealous of a fucking tee shirt but it’s not like he doesn’t understand. Truly, he does. If he had the chance, he’d spend the entire day clinging to Grantaire’s arms too. And to his chest. Grantaire’s lean from constantly replacing meals with cigarettes and alcohol but his stupid chest that reminded Enjolras that Grantaire boxed. Who even invented boxing? Enjolras wants to punch them. And kiss them. Except no. He only ever wants to kiss Grantaire. Fucking Grantaire.

Eponine looked as him when Grantaire walked in the quad that morning, early for once, and smirked at him.

“Don’t you think Grantaire looks nice today?” she asks innocently. He should have knows something was wrong when _Eponine_ came to school before the bell rang.

“ _Guuhhh_.” Enjolras responds intelligently, still raking his eyes down Grantaire’s body.

It was a frustrating day for him and he’s sure everyone notices.

It’s no matter now because he wastes no time in pushing Grantaire up against his bedroom door and kissing him harshly. Grantaire gasps into his mouth and Enjolras feels thrilled that he can produce that effect on the teenager. Enjolras takes the opportunity to slide his tongue inside Grantaire’s mouth. His grip on Grantaire’s shoulders is vicelike and he knows that there’ll probably be bruises from this but he can’t help himself.

Grantaire himself doesn’t seem to mind because he slips his knee between Enjolras’ legs, pushing through the fabric of his jeans and Enjolras can feel his hardness. Fuck. They grind against the other, swallowing each other’s moan as they continue to kiss wildly. Grantaire tastes vaguely of cigarettes and the minty gum he usually chews on the car ride over and Enjolras deepens the kiss, trying to taste everything. To keep that taste in his mouth so he can jerk off later and remember how Grantaire feels against him now. Press his fingers into the spots that Grantaire’s touched and fuck his fist until he spills over into his hands with a grunt, trying to avoid the fact that he masturbated to the thoughts of his friend without his consent and try not to feel shitty about it.

They kiss, all tongue and teeth and Enjolras slides his hands down Grantaire’s chest, digging his fingers into the indents of his ribs, tightening his grip on Grantaire’s waist. Grantaire seems to favour his hair when they do this, tugging it sharply and Enjolras lets Grantaire tilt his head backwards and start mouthing at his jaw.

Grantaire never kisses him hard enough to leave bruises but he drags his way down his jaw to his neck and bites down lightly making Enjolras shiver before placing kisses all over every inch of bare skin.

Enjolras doesn’t see anything past this heat filled lust and he gasps, thrusting his hips towards Grantaire’s who groans.

Grantaire moves his hands from Enjolras’ hair to his hips and stills them with a firm hold and if he were thinking properly he’d probably be grateful for it but as it is he whimpers angrily (well as angrily as one could really ever whimper).

Grantaire recaptures his mouth, his kiss bruising and Enjolras continues to whimper, this time with pleasure. He trails his hands up until he’s able to sink his hands into Grantaire soft curls and- Jesus. He finally understands why Grantaire always goes for the hair when they kiss. He tugs his hair sharply like Grantaire usually does to his and enjoys the way Grantaire actually whines.

Enjolras drags his tongue over the roof of Grantaire’s mouth in a way that he knows makes Grantaire purr but this time Grantaire lets out a strangled moan that makes Enjolras grow even harder in his pants.

It obviously has a different effect on Grantaire because he wrenches his mouth from Enjolras’ and breathes heavily, looking at him with undisguised awe.

He pushes Enjolras’ shoulder slightly and Enjolras gets the hint and steps away from him.

“We can’t-” Grantaire pants harshly. “You’re first time can’t be up against a door. And it shouldn’t be with me.”

It takes him a minute to process Grantaire’s words and he sucks in a sharp breath when he does. “Grantaire can we just-”

“No. We-” Grantaire says finally. “You’re ready.”

“What?” Enjolras asks, breathlessly.

“You’re ready.” Grantaire repeats, nodding seriously. “You’re fucking amaz- you can ask whoever it is out. You’re ready. You’re _so_ ready.”

“Wait. No you don’t understand.” Enjolras says trying to sort out his thoughts. Because Grantaire has to like him back at least just a little, even if he doesn’t know it yet. No one kisses like that without any kind of emotion.

“You practice with me for the real thing.” Grantaire says matter-of-factly, with the tone of someone who’s already accepted this fact. “I’m fine with it. I promise.”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras says helplessly. “I wish I knew how to say what I want to say without sounding like an idiot.”

“Enjolras,” Grantaire shakes his head fondly. “Don’t. It really _is_ okay.”

Grantaire brushes his lips against Enjolras’ jaw and somehow after everything, this is what makes Enjolras want to melt.

“Grantaire.”

“Ask your person out.” Grantaire says firmly. “I hope they make you happy, whoever they are.”

He looks at Enjolras again before smiling a little and walking out of his room.

Enjolras doesn’t hear when the front door shuts but he knows when the house is empty again. He always does. He turns on the alarm and sits on his bed as he tries to think this through.

Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe Grantaire doesn’t like him and he’s just happy to be rid of him. He scrubs his hand down his face and falls back against his bed.

Maybe what he needs to do is to talk to his friends about this. Doing this without their help was probably a bad idea anyway.

-

Feuilly is the first person Enjolras sees in the morning, sitting in the quad. Feuilly generally comes to school earlier than most of them, since xe lives furthest from the school.

“Does Grantaire like me?” Enjolras asks xem upon sitting down.

Xe throws xyr head back and starts laughing and doesn’t stop until Enjolras walks away from xem.

Well that gave away nothing.

-

Enjolras runs to grab a book from his locker after second period and he bumps into Bossuet, quite literally. Bossuet falls to the ground and Enjolras stretched out his hand to help them up.

When Bossuet pulls themself up with Enjolras’ aid, they brush their hands through their hair. They’ve been wearing the shave half of your head trend, that’s been getting more and more popular lately, since before it even blew up and they’re very proud of that fact.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did,” Bossuet says, smiling widely. “You have two more left.”

“You and Grantaire are close right?” Enjolras asks.

“That’s your second question.” Bossuet hums. “And you know that’s a yes.”

“Does he like me?” Enjolras asks, slowly. “As more than a friend I mean.”

Bossuet narrows their eyes at him as if they’re inspecting something. “Were you dropped on your head as a child?”

“Don’t bother.” Enjolras sighs. “Thanks for your help.”

“Happy as always to provide my services,” Bossuet grins. They pat Enjolras on the shoulder before walking away.

That was unhelpful.

-

Bahorel is the first person at their lunch table besides him so he asks Bahorel next and the pink haired boy abruptly stands up.

“Bahorel?”

“No.”

“Bahorel seriously.”

“Tell everyone else I’m eating with the rest of the glee club today.” Bahorel says, walking away. “Seriously I have like zero time for this shit.”

Enjolras doesn’t even remember why he thought his friends would be helpful when to comes to this.

-

Cosette drags him into the girl’s bathroom after lunch and glares him into the door. She’s short and with her copper skin and big brown eyes and hair covered by her khimar, she looks harmless enough.

Appearances are deceiving.

“Have you been asking people if Grantaire likes you?” she asks with a fierce glint in her eyes.

Enjolras nods slowly.

Cosette nods seriously, “You might just be the stupidest person I’ve ever met.”

“Did you just drag me in here to insult me?” Enjolras asks, raising his brows.

“Don’t get too puffed up there.” Cosette says, fishing through her purse and heading towards the mirror. “We’re in here because my kohl is starting to sweat.”

Enjolras leaves her to reapply her make-up and shakes his head. He’s slightly scared and not willing to contemplate that conversation any further.

-

His friends might be the most unhelpful people in the world. He’s asked just about all of them and all he got were non answers. Courfeyrac is one of his best friends and he’s good with feelings but he can be just as unhelpful as everyone else when he’s ready so Enjolras knows it’s a gamble even asking him,

He asks him when they leave History Class together and Courfeyrac gapes at him as Enjolras shifts awkwardly. He doesn’t make a sound for several seconds and when he actually does, Enjolras wishes they could go back to the silence because Courfeyrac sucks.

“Poor fool he makes me laugh. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.” Courfeyrac sings as they walk together down the hallway.

“Can you be serious?”

“Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha,” Courfeyrac continues to sing in an awful operatic tone. “Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha...”

Enjolras walks away from him. He’s not even going to bother with this one.

-

Enjolras enters the library after school, exhausted and sits opposite Combeferre. Combeferre. Ever reasonable Combeferre.

“Just-be straight with me. Do you think Grantaire likes me?”

“Enjolras,” Combeferre says, well he whispers because they’re in a library and everything, reaches over the table to place his hand on his shoulder and forces Enjolras to look him in the eye. “We have very unhelpful friends who are admitted meddlers but weirdly enough are not willing to meddle when they think it can actually risk a friendship. I’m more optimistic than they are so let me just say this very clearly. Yes. Grantaire very much likes you. If you had asked him out instead of doing all of this he would have said yes. Because he likes you. Grantaire likes you.”

“So you think Grantaire likes me?” Enjolras asks hopefully.

Combeferre gets up from the table and walks away from him.

Which- rude.

-

The first thing Enjolras does when he reaches home, is call Courfeyrac. He regrets it not a second later when Courfeyrac answers his call and starts singing again.

“Poor fool he doesn’t know. Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho.”

“Courfeyrac I will cut your dick off.” Enjolras says calmly over Courfeyrac who continues to sing “ho, ho, ho” despite the threat of castration.

 “I think Grantaire likes me and I want to do something about that.” Enjolras cuts in because if he doesn’t Courfeyrac might sing the entire score of Phantom of the Opera and there’ll be nothing Enjolras can do to stop him.

It works because Courfeyrac actually stops singing. Actually he stops doing anything and Enjolras would think he got hung up on if it wasn’t for the fact that he can still hear Courfeyrac breathing in the background.

“Courfeyrac?”

“How are you going to do that?” Courfeyrac asks seriously. And serious Courfeyrac. Enjolras can work with that. In fact he prefers it.

“Well firstly,” Enjolras says, slightly reluctant. “I think I’m having a party on Friday.”

Enjolras isn’t silly enough to think Courfeyrac’s whoop can be heard from his house but Bahorel calls him, not seconds after he ended the call to ask if he should go over to Courfeyrac’s and see if he’s being murdered.

-

Enjolras has a plan. It’s a good plan this time.

Thinking back, it’s quite possible that his idea to seduce Grantaire (because that was the aim, he can admit it now) by getting him to teach him how to kiss under the guise of needing to learn so he can date some unnamed bloke, wasn’t a very good one.

His ego isn’t fragile enough that he can’t admit that.

This plan on the other hand, is a great one. He knows it’s a great one because it’s Combeferre approved. Better yet it’s Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Feuilly, Cosette and Jehan approved which means it might just be the best plan _ever_.

This plan however, all hinges on the party.

-

Wednesday is the worst Wednesday he’s had in weeks. He doesn’t clear his room in anticipation of Grantaire trailing him home in his car after school the next day because Grantaire isn’t coming over tomorrow.

Instead he goes to the grocery with Courfeyrac and buys plates and cups and decorations and all that nonsense. Courfeyrac even wants to make a banner that says “I LOVE YOU, NOW KISS ME YOU FOOL...BUT LIKE BECAUSE I THINK UR CUTE AND I WANT TO MAKE YOUR BABIES NOT BECAUSE I WANT TO DATE SOMEONE ELSE!!!” but Enjolras vetoes it. In fact so does his boyfriend, and Jehan, and Feuilly, and Joly, and Bossuet and pretty much the entire human population but Courfeyrac isn’t perturbed.

In fact he might be even more excited about this party than Enjolras is which is great for Enjolras because when Courfeyrac’s ready to plan an event, he goes all out.

Enjolras doesn’t even have to do anything but provide his parents’ credit card and let Courfeyrac do what needs to be done.

Scratch that. All Enjolras needs to do is make sure that Grantaire comes to the party on Friday.

-

He skips fifth period on Thursday and finds Grantaire under the bleachers with a cigarette between his fingers. If Grantaire’s surprised to see him, he doesn’t look it.

“Enjolras the Great skipping yet another class?” Grantaire asks dryly. “Have I turned you into a rebel?”

“I’ve always been a rebel.” Enjolras moves to sit next to him and their knees bump together.

“Yeah but like, you’re a good rebel. You want people to be equal and you harp on about pronouns and affordable lunches and you fight against sexism and racism and homophobia and transmisogyny and Islamaphobia and all that jazz.” Grantaire waves his hands dismissively. “You know nothing of senseless rebellion.”

Enjolras thinks, even knowing that he liked Grantaire, if he’d heard Grantaire say this three weeks ago in such a casual manner he would have bristled and replied with something cutting. Now he just huffs and knocks their knees together gently. It’s funny, but knowing that Grantaire’s criticism of his ideals comes not from lack of care but from lack of faith pleases Enjolras. Broken faith is easily mended with the right people around you. A genuine lack of concern, not so much.

Grantaire can burn just as brightly as he says Enjolras does if he wants to and Enjolras wants to help make it happen.

“Have you asked your person out yet?” he asks after a moment passes.

“No.” Enjolras replies after a moment. “I’m thinking of asking them tomorrow.”

“At your party?” Grantaire asks sharply.

Enjolras nods.

“You’re asking him tomorrow, at your party.” Grantaire clarifies.

“Mm hmn.” Enjolras mumbles. “Are you coming?”

Grantaire is silent beside him and Enjolras chances a look at him. He’s looking at Enjolras critically with narrowed eyes and Enjolras tries not to shift under his gaze.

“What?”

“Nothing Apollo.” Grantaire sighs and shakes his head wryly. “That nasty thing called hope was trying to worm its way in my heart?”

“Hope for what?” Enjolras asks, playing stupid.

He thinks about how much easier it would be if he just quits this game right now and tells Grantaire the tru, but he has a plan and he works better with plans. He has a speech. His speech is brilliant...well he’s not going to get ahead of himself. His speech exists at least and it’s better than whatever gibberish he’ll blurt out now with Grantaire’s eyes piercing through him.

“Nothing.” Grantaire says with a smirk. “I hope for nothing and I get it in abundance.”

“You never answered my question,” Enjolras says and he tries not to sound frustrated. “Are you coming tomorrow?”

“Most of the student body will be, I can’t see why I shouldn’t join them.” Grantaire shrugs. “Plus, I want to see the person who stole the elusive Enjolras’ heart.”

“I hope you won’t be disappointed then.”

-

Another thing about a Courfeyrac planned event is the decorations.

He’d hiss _“blasphemy”_ in your face if you ever suggest that there’s such a thing as too many decorations but Enjolras thinks that there’s a limit and Courfeyrac tends to enjoy crossing it.

It’s a pool party and no one is allowed inside, Enjolras is not going to risk another of his mother’s carpet again. But Courfeyrac decided on a luau night long before Enjolras even agreed to this party and he created an ambience to suit. It’s not bad per se, it’s just a bit...much. With the fake coconut cups and the fairy lights streamed all over the terrace.

People who aren’t splashing about or making out provocatively in the pool are wearing fake grass skirts and leis. Courfeyrac, who as always takes it a step further and is wearing a coconut bra for who knows what reason, is nodding along absentmindedly while Bahorel highlights every single ridiculous stereotype he chose when it came to decorations, almost shouting over the music while drinking fruity alcohol out of a coconut cup. Technically he, Courfeyrac and Jehan have been drinking a concoction of three different alcohol based drinks, none of them choosing to listen to Combeferre or Joly when they warned that mixing your drinks is a bad idea.

Enjolras is wearing his usual clothes because if he dressed any differently than usual he would have gotten nervous and backed out. The only thing different about him today is that his hair is loose around his shoulders and that’s only because Jehan forced him and he can admit that Grantaire _does_ seem to like it when he wears his hair like this.

Enjolras’ terrace at the side of his house is crowded with people he knows and people he’s never even seen before. Courfeyrac is visibly delighted by the turn out given the way he’s sucking face with Combeferre where they’re sitting in a patio chair a reasonable distance away from the swarm of partygoers. They could have done this at either of their houses. It was Enjolras’ choice to have the party but if this is why Courfeyrac wanted a party Enjolras can barely see why. Not that he wouldn’t be doing the same if Grantaire were here and they were dating (as they should be.)

His friends are scattered around the crowd surrounding the pool (which is apparently the interim dance floor), dancing or swaying to the music, Jehan being the only one of them willing to actually get in a pool at a pool party. Bossuet’s a great DJ. They keep a steady stream of classic rock, rap, dancehall, pop, reggae, slow R&B and techno playing without making anything sound out of place.

Grantaire’s nowhere to be seen which is okay but he said he was coming and Enjolras expects him to show up. For now though, he’s standing with Feuilly and Bahorel (who has a bruised cheekbone) by the table with refreshments and looking out at the people frolicking in the pool. So far no one’s gotten topless yet, which is generally the point where Enjolras decides to head inside, so everything is fine.

At least everything is fine until Grantaire does show up and does so with Montparnasse on his arms and that’s just...

Montparnasse looks stunning as always, she’s in a short form fitted black dress and her make-up and hair is impeccably done. She doesn’t give Enjolras the chance to be nervous at the prospect of Grantaire moving on from him however because Eponine walks up to her and kisses her firmly on the mouth and drags her away from Grantaire to the ‘dance floor’. Enjolras relaxes.

Grantaire smiles at him and Enjolras returns it. He’s wearing all black, a Black Sabbath tee, jeans and a leather jacket. He looks, well he looks wonderful. As fast as Grantaire smiles, he nods and disappears into the crowd leaving Enjolras there to stare after the space he was occupying.

He looks around and Feuilly and Bahorel are nowhere to be seen which is probably a good thing, because Enjolras feels lost and he doesn’t like to feel lost around other people. Anyway he shouldn’t be _feeling_ lost. He has a plan. He remembers the period in his life where plans were a good thing that generally worked out for him and he groans and considers pouring himself a cup of whatever it is that Bahorel, Jehan and Courfeyrac have been drinking all night, but then he remembers Maria passed out up in his parents’ room, and he decides against it.

He looks to the patio and sees Courfeyrac eagerly waving him over like an excitable child and Combeferre looking at him indulgently and Enjolras heads over to his two best friends.

“Is everything okay?” Enjolras asks curiously when he’s standing in front of the chair they’ve been sharing.

“You look like a lost, little bunny rabbit.” Courfeyrac says happily. “I felt bad just leaving you there standing on your own.”

“Sit with us.” Combeferre says, smiling up at him.

Enjolras sighs but he squeezes himself in the middle of Courfeyrac and Combeferre, with great difficulty given that it’s a chair that’s supposed to seat one person, and burrows his face into Combeferre’s neck while Courfeyrac strokes his hair. He’s content to sit with them and ignore the party goers, surrounding himself with their comfort for the time being. They’re the only people Enjolras has _always_ felt happiest around.

“What troubles you my sweet summer child?” Courfeyrac asks after a while passes.

“Nothing.” Enjolras murmurs.

“Oh please,” Combeferre says, louder than his usual soft tone as he tries to talk over the music. “We know you better than that. What is it?”

“You’re all sure that Grantaire likes me right.” Enjolras asks more than he says. “And I’m not just going to go make a fool of myself and ruin eleven years of already unsteady friendship.”

“Oh dear.” Combeferre says, long suffering.

“What?” Enjolras asks.

“Don’t miss out on your chance because you’re choosing to be a coward is what he wants to say.” Courfeyrac says matter-of-factly.

“I am not a coward.” Enjolras growls.

Courfeyrac pushes him, not all that hard but Enjolras still falls on the floor and glares up at Courfeyrac who smiles back at him innocently. “Go get your man then.”

“I hate to agree with Courfeyrac (“Hey!”) But he has a point.”

-

It doesn’t take him that long to find Grantaire. He isn’t in the pool. He isn’t dancing. He wasn’t on the patio and all of his friends really do have keys to his house so the only other option is for him is to be inside.

And Enjolras is right.

He’s in his kitchen, rummaging through his fridge when Enjolras finds him. Grantaire jumps when he sees Enjolras but then he just breathes again and keeps searching through the fridge for whatever he’s looking for. When he comes out with a carton of orange juice that he then pours some into a plastic cup Enjolras raises a brow.

“I’m not drinking that fruity shit out there,” he says. “It tastes like ass.”

“So...vodka then?” Enjolras asks.

“You know me so well.” Grantaire preens as he takes a gulp of his drink. “Anything interesting happen before I arrived?”

“Courfeyrac’s been trying to get people to wear the ridiculous bras he bought but he and Joly are the only ones willing to wear them.” Enjolras informs him. “Maria’s been moping since Cosette couldn’t come. She drank two cups of whatever Courfeyrac, Bahorel and Jehan’s been drinking whole night and she’s passed out in my parents’ bed. Oh and Bahorel pushed Feuilly in the pool and Feuilly punched him in the face when xe got out.”

Grantaire looks at him incredulously for a moment before bursting into laughter. His head is thrown backwards and Enjolras’ eyes are trained on the curve of his neck.

“We should go out.” Enjolras says suddenly and this is _not the bloody plan_. He sat down with Courfeyrac and Combeferre and- There were spreadsheets. There was a powerpoint presentation. There was...there was a speech.

Grantaire gapes at him and Enjolras starts to think, maybe this non-plan is an okay one too until-

“Yeah okay. We should go out. I hear Cafe Musain is reopening we can start having meetings there again so we don’t have to deal with you and Combeferre getting sent to the principal’s office every time we kick some asshole out of a GSA meeting and Joly thinks it’s a good idea too since she’s the one who saw the reopened sign first so-”

And what?

“What?” Enjolras asks, seriously. Because what?

“The group hasn’t gone out together for weeks because of our- _thing_.” Grantaire replies slowly as if Enjolras is the one who isn’t getting it which is just- “That’s what you’re asking right?”

“Grantaire why are you the way that you are? Wait no. Don’t answer that. I had something prepared. I prepared a speech for this because apparently speaking plain around you benefits no one.”

“Um...”

“No. Shut up. I’m trying to tell you that I love you and you’re not listening because you’re the most frustrating person ever. I mean what did you even think our _thing_ was Grantaire? We don’t exist within a cliché twink porno you know that right? I asked you to teach me how to kiss! Who does that? I mean I know I was being stupid about it but what about you? You’re too smart to be this stupid. How could I love such a stupid smart person? I mean I guess I’m kind of equally as stupid but Jesus, you’re competing with me here and you’re just about winning  if you wanted to know and-”

“Um...”

“What?” Enjolras asks, frustrated. He’s a second away from tugging at his own hair.

“What did you just say?” Grantaire asks with wide eyes.

“I said I love you and I do!” Enjolras says, realising exactly what he just said. “That’s what it is. That’s what I’ve been feeling all this time. This is why I’ve been so stupid about everything. I love you, you idiot.”

“I don’t want to be rash here but I think you might have just accidentally told me you loved me?” Grantaire says weakly.

“Grantaire,” Enjolras says desperately. “I don’t know what else to do. I told you I was planning to ask the person I like to go out at my party. You came to my party. I asked you out. I told you I loved you. How much clearer do I need to get? Do I have to dance around in boxers that say ‘Enjolras likes Grantaire’. I’m at a loss at this point.”

“You love me,” Grantaire says, and that’s realisation in his voice. Enjolras would jump for joy but he’s not sure if swift movement would regress them back to where they were five minutes ago so he stands still. “ _You_ love _me_?”

“I do,” Enjolras says gently. “Very much so.”

“I love you too.” Grantaire says quickly, tripping over his words. “You know that right?”

“I didn’t until now.” Enjolras says and he’s relieved. Grantaire loves him. And he loves Grantaire.

Grantaire walks towards him and even after everything, he’s hesitant as his hands curve around Enjolras’ waist and presses into the small of his back so he can pull Enjolras closer to him.

“Why did you ask me to give you kissing lessons?” Grantaire asks urgently, his grip tightening.

“I wanted to be close to you and I knew you’d be good to me.” Enjolras says truthfully. He twines his hands around Grantaire’s neck. “And I really wanted to kiss you.”

“I really want to kiss you now.” Grantaire says with awe his tone.

Enjolras doesn’t respond. He just leans in and kisses him gently. Grantaire sighs and sucks on Enjolras’ lower lip, making the blonde teenager gasp sharply. Grantaire’s mouth tastes sweet, like orange juice and Enjolras chases the taste, the noise from the party dulling as he becomes consumed with just this.

Grantaire rubs circles into Enjolras’ back and the kiss is soft and slow and he likes this. He likes just standing here and breathing Grantaire in and letting Grantaire do the same.

“So? You have boxers that say ‘Enjolras likes Grantaire’?” Grantaire muses when they break the kiss. “I mean...that’s a bit much.”

Enjolras snorts and rolls his eyes fondly. “Do you want to go upstairs?”

-

Enjolras has Grantaire lying on his bed and he plans to enjoy it. He crawls on top of him, covering him with his body and kisses him hard. Grantaire seems all too happy to continue what they started in the kitchen and he moves his hand to comb through Enjolras’ curls with the ease of someone who’s used to dealing with unruly hair.

They’re so used to kissing each other at this point that everything comes naturally but something’s different this time. It takes him a while to realise why, but it’s because Grantaire’s not holding himself back this time. He kisses with the languor of someone who can do this for the rest of his life and the urgency of someone who isn’t handling something breakable. And when he sucks at Enjolras’ neck, he sucks hard enough that Enjolras is moaning and whimpering on top of him.

In turn, Enjolras has no qualms about mouthing his way down Grantaire’s jaw and biting down hard at the juncture between his neck and his collarbone. Grantaire jerks his hips in response and it would be so easy for them to just rub up against each other desperately and come in their jeans. He’s been hard since the kitchen and he knows Grantaire is too but Enjolras resists, only just barely. Their first time together, and they _are_ going to have a first time together, isn’t going to be with all of their friends and a house full of people downstairs and...oh right. He’s a shit host.

Grantaire brushes the hair that’s falling in front of his face back, tucks it behind Enjolras’ ear and presses a kiss to Enjolras’ earlobe. Enjolras shivers.

“You’re finally aware that you still have a party going on downstairs then?” he asks, not sounding like he really cares about the answer.

“Right.”

Enjolras untangles himself from Grantaire, grinning when the boy whines in response, and calls Courfeyrac.

“Courf if I wake up and any of these people are still in my house I’ll murder them and frame you for it.” Enjolras says pleasantly. He hangs up before Courfeyrac can respond and Grantaire is laughing into the pillow.

“You’d never frame him.” Grantaire says, giggling as he laces their fingers together and tugs Enjolras back down. Enjolras falls on his chest and neither of them seems bothered by that result. “You’d probably make the choice to go to jail in his stead if you had the option.”

Enjolras glares up at him half heartedly but Grantaire’s hand is in his and he’s lying on top of him, breathing in his scent and he can’t find it in him to be too irritated.

-

When they wake up, Enjolras’ face is buried in the crook of Grantaire’s neck as he’s strewn across him and he’s never felt happier.

“Is this real?” Grantaire asks, like he’s in a dream. Enjolras can’t blame him. He feels the same way.

“I could ask you the same question.”

Enjolras tilts his head up to kiss him but Grantaire presses his lips together.

“Um...morning breath.”

“Right.” Enjolras says. The taste inside his mouth is not very pleasant. He’s not going to subject Grantaire to that.

They still kiss each other though, just chastely this time and along the jaw and neck instead of the lips. They get lost in each other as they usually do and Enjolras isn’t sure if five or fifty minutes have passes as they press tiny kisses against each other.

“Jesus,” Grantaire asks when he finally pulls away from him. “Who the hell’s cleaning this place up before your parents come back?”

“Well,” Enjolras starts slowly. “Now that I have a boyfriend?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Grantaire says, shaking his head ruefully. “You’re lucky I love my boyfriend very much.”

“I feel lucky.” Enjolras replies honestly. He feels like the luckiest person in the world.

 

**Author's Note:**

> poor enjolras and the plan that never got to see the light of day
> 
> \- the title is from 'kiss me' by 'sixpence none the richer'  
> \- a khimar is a headscarf used by muslim women  
> \- 'cuando está enjolras teniendo une fiesta' is maria trying to ask 'when is enjolras having a party'  
> \- the song enjolras and grantaire do together is 'again' written by scott alan and hadley fraser specifically for hadley's voice, so imagine a voice something like that, but younger.  
> \- i'm cis so if there's anything i got wrong in that GSA bit, feel free to call me out on it.  
> \- 'poor fool he makes me laugh' is a song from phantom


End file.
